I care
by overnightinsperation
Summary: Rated T for swearing/dark themes. 10 years after the gang moved to New York, and up until a year and a half ago, things had been going great. What could have happened to damage Cory and everyone else so badly? Please R&R!
1. Emptiness

**~~ Author's note: Rated M for copious swearing/dark themes. Set about 10 years after the show ended.**

**This wasn't originally meant to be a BMW fan fic, just something I wrote out of boredom. I tweaked a few things to fit each character's personality but somethings still may be a bit off.**

**Please don't be afraid to give constructive criticism! ~~**

So he sat there.  
He sat there in the study as smoke wafted around him.  
Everything in room felt full.  
His ash tray was full, his coffee cup was full, the room itself was  
full.  
Clothes, empty cigarette packs, crumpled up pieces of paper littered the  
floor.  
He was beginning to think that he was the only thing in the entire world  
that was so empty.  
There was some nameless woman laying in his bed, but who really cared?  
It was nearing 6 am and Cory still couldn't get any rest.  
He had been about to get up and get ready for work when it hit him like  
a slap of relief.  
He didn't have to work today.  
It was Friday morning, but it was summer. He was teaching summer classes  
and they didn't meet on Fridays.  
He was relieved all over again when he heard the lady he'd brought home,  
whoever she was, getting up and collecting her things.  
She stood at his doorway for a minute, saying something or another about  
a nice time and seeing him again.  
Cory didn't even look up from his paper.  
After a few seconds, she took the hint and walked out, he heard the door  
slam behind her.  
'Who the hell cares?'  
That seemed to be the thought he resorted to every time.  
It was, after all, the last thing the most important person in his life  
had said to him.  
It had been funny at the time, Cory remembered laughing.  
"Where'd you hear language like that?" he had said, and then he felt  
someone tap his shoulder.  
Who would have known that the second he turned around, his life would  
change forever?  
He didn't. So he dwelled on that thought.  
"Who the hell cares?"  
It was a question that haunted him through the night.  
One he repeated often.  
Every time he brought a woman home, every time his ex best friend  
called, every time his ex wife called.  
Fuck, even every time his mother called.  
He had stopped picking up the phone long ago.  
They were so worried.  
Why were they always so fucking worried?  
What did they care?  
He didn't care, why should they?  
He thought back on his life, when he was married and happy and didn't  
have a single care in the world.  
He remembered meeting his wife, as young kids in elementary school.  
The connection was instantaneous. They thought it was last forever.  
And, he supposed it might have.  
"Who the hell cares?!" he shouted to himself in the empty room. "Who the  
hell cares, indeed..."


	2. Friendly advice?

Cory woke up to someone relentlessly pounding on his door.  
"Fuck." Was his first thought as he reached for the cigarette he had  
laid out for himself last night.  
He struck a match and inhaled before stumbling out of bed, the knocking  
getting louder and more desperate.  
"HOLD ON A FUCKIN SECOND." Cory screamed as he threw a shirt on and  
walked to the door.  
He opened the door and on the other side was his best friend who was  
slowly becoming a stranger, his presence unwanted in Cory's life.  
"Shawn, what are you doing here? I'm trying to sleep." he said coldly,  
blowing a stream of smoke in Shawn's face.  
"It's three in the afternoon, Cor. You smoke now?" he replied, waving  
the thick smoke from his face.  
"I've been smoking for close to a year, Shawn."  
"And I would know that, seeing how we're inseparable these days."  
"What do you want, Shawn?" Cory scoffed.  
"I want you to call Topanga."  
"Forget it."  
"Cory! She's a wreck without you!"  
"Who the hell cares?"  
"You do!"  
"I don't."  
"Bullshit, you don't. Look at you. Drinking, bringing random women home,  
_smoking_?! I mean, look at your apartment, it's a fucking sty! You're  
drowning here!"  
"Okay, you know what, Shawn?! I don't need this! I don't have to take  
this shit from you. You have no idea what I'm feeling! All our lives,  
you bitched to me about your life. 'Oh my life is so hard, I can never  
catch a break, it's all about me, my problems, Shawn's problems!' And I  
was always there to catch the brunt of your coldness when you were  
frustrated and hurt. And you know what?! NOW, it's my turn!" Cory  
screamed and slammed the door in his face.  
"Who the hell cares? Nobody cares." He murmured to himself before  
falling back into bed.


	3. Night terrors

Cory's sleep, as usual, was haunted by night terrors and the dreams he  
suffered.  
The memories.  
They replayed over and over in a nightmare that kept him shaking and  
sweating every night, or on not-so-rare occasions, screaming into the  
dark.  
"Daddy, mommmy, look!"  
How was that voice so painfully clear?  
His own curly hair, his wife's bright eyes, and every other feature so  
heavily resembling himself.  
The little boy sat on the swing, going higher and higher as Cory  
watched.  
A girl, not much more than a year older, with perfectly curly brown hair  
swung next to Adam, shyly swinging lower than he was.  
It was all so vividly clear.  
Cory could feel Topanga's hand in his, he could hear Shawn laughing and  
cheering his daughter on.  
'They're going to end up together, you know' he heard Topanga whisper in  
his ear.  
And Cory felt lighter than air.  
'What could be better than this?' he thought to himself as he nodded and  
kissed his wife's hand.  
Suddenly, he heard a scream.  
He looked around, trying to find the source and saw Adam on the ground,  
blood splattered around him.  
No, please, no.  
All of a sudden, he was running.  
And then Adam was at his feet, or what was left of him.  
He was torn apart, blood seemed to cover everything.  
Please, no.  
He looked around, the little girl had a look of pure terror on her face  
and seemed to be fading away.  
"No, 'Tasha, it's okay, no, where are you going? Natasha!"  
He looked back and Shawn was fading the same way, with the same look on  
his face.  
"Shawn!" Cory heard himself call as his best friend disappeared.  
Topanga, on the other hand, was calling his name.  
He looked toward her and she was running; he heard the earth crackling  
beneath his feet.  
By the time Topanga reached him, the earth had split, and they were just  
a fraction of an inch from the other's outstretched hand.  
"Topanga!"  
"Cory!"  
Topanga and Cory both backed away, avoiding the endlessly deep chasm  
growing between them until they were impossibly far from each other.  
Then he awoke, screaming his son's name and unable to move.  
His clothes and sheets were drenched in sweat, so how was he so cold?  
Had he been crying in his sleep? His wet pillow suggested he had.  
He was unsure how much time passed before he could move again.  
10 minutes? An hour? 3 hours?  
He reached over to his nightstand, his hand shaking badly as he picked  
up a cigarette and a match.  
"Who the hell cares, who the hell cares?" he repeated over and over to  
himself, blowing a cloud of smoke into the air.


	4. Ma

"Mrs. Matthews, I don't know what to do anymore. He won't listen to me,  
he won't even pick up the phone for 'Panga, he won't listen to anyone.  
Last week, he slammed the door in my face, yesterday the only thing he  
said to me was 'who the hell cares?' He repeated it over and over, no  
matter what I said, until I finally left."  
Shawn and been on the phone with Cory's mother for half an hour.  
She was silent for a minute and Shawn didn't know what to say.  
"Ma, I'm trying to do my best for Cor here but.. I just can't get  
through to him."  
Amy smiled a sad, little smile when Shawn called her 'Ma.'  
"I know, Shawn. You're a good boy. I'm going to fly down there, I think.  
I haven't seem to him in a year and a half, at Adam's funeral. I've  
hardly talked to him."  
"I know, he never picks up the phone. You sure you want to fly down? You  
want me to pick you up from the airport?"  
"Yes, I'm sure. It's long overdue. And no, I'll manage. Don't worry,  
darling. I'm gonna let you go."  
"Okay, Ma. Call me when you book the flight. Love ya."  
"I will. Love you, too."


	5. Confrontation

Cory was mindlessly watching a movie and chainsmoking when he heard a  
soft knock on his door.  
He sighed, irritated, and stood up.  
When he opened the door, he was shocked to see his mother.  
"Mom? Wha-what are you doing here?" he stammered.  
She scowled at him and took the cigarette out of his hand, throwing it  
on the ground and stomping it out.  
"Oh, no. I don't think so. No son of mine is going to be a smoker."  
"Mom!" he protested, immediately annoyed.  
"Quiet down and let your mother in. It's colder than anything out here."  
He begrudgingly stepped aside and his mother walked into his apartment.  
"Sweet Jesus! Cory Matthews, what have you been doing?! This apartment  
is a wreck!"  
"Mom, don't start."  
The older woman sighed. "Fine."  
"What are you doing here? I know you didn't fly to New York for  
nothing."  
"I came to talk to about your life. And Topanga."  
"I don't want to talk about it." he immediately spat back.  
"Well, tough. We're going to talk about it. Cory, what are you doing?"  
"Nothing, Mom. I am... doing nothing."  
"I could have guessed that. Shawn tells me you've been holed up in this  
apartment, drinking and smoking. Only going out to pick up strange  
women. Cory... this isn't the boy I raised."  
"And you know why, Mom? Because the boy you raised happened to raise a  
boy of his own. And guess what? He's dead. That bastard killed him, for  
no reason! So he's gone. Forever." Cory started to shake, forcing back  
tears. He reached for another cigarette and his mother stopped him.  
"That's why I'm here. I already lost my grandbaby to some sick freak.  
I'm not about to lose my son in the aftermath."  
Cory just glared at her.  
"Sweetie, I know it hurts. I love Adam, too."  
"_Loved_ Adam."  
"No, I love Adam. Now and forever. And I love you, and Topanga, too. And  
Topanga loves you."  
"No, she doesn't. She hates me. I pushed her away and now she hates me.  
He's dead because of me. She hates me. I hate me."  
"Sweetie, it is not your fault."  
"YES, IT IS. I was there, I should have been watching him. I turned away  
and he was gone. I should have been there to protect him. He trusted me.  
He needed me. And I let him down. And now he is dead because of me."  
"Cory, you turned away for two minutes. This man had it planned. Have  
someone distract you, take him, and run as fast as he could. You didn't  
stand there and say 'Hey, please take my boy.' Nobody blames you for  
what happened besides yourself. It's not your fault. It's high time you  
listen to somebody when they tell you that."  
Cory just stared into space, crying silently as his mom got up and  
kissed his forehead.  
"I told Topanga to meet you at Coco's tonight at 8 for dinner. I really  
think you should go." she told him as she closed the door behind her.  
He checked the time: 4 pm.  
He had a lively debate with himself on whether or not to go, but at 7 he  
found himself in the shower. Then getting dressed. Then tying his tie.  
And he thought to himself, "It's just one dinner. That's it. Who the  
hell cares?"


	6. Just one dinner

The moment Cory walked into the resturant, he was nauseous.  
'This is a mistake, what am I doing? I can't go through with this. No.  
No, I have to. I owe her that much.'  
After a few minutes scanning the room, he finally found her.  
He almost wished he hadn't.  
His heart leaped to his throat and he had to fight to keep the little  
food he had eaten today down.  
She was a shadow of her formal self.  
He hadn't seen her since the funeral, he had his lawyer deliver the  
divorce papers. He hadn't even spoken to her.  
She had always been so beautiful, with curves that drove him wild.  
Now she was skin and bones with no make up and hair that looked like she  
hadn't bothered in a year and a half, which he was sure she hadn't.  
'And like you're some prize, Cor.' he thought.  
He quietly sat at the chair across from her's, at a loss of what to say.  
She looked up at him and he flinched. Her face was ashen and her eyes  
were sunken in. She looked long dead.  
'Also your fault' he made sure to remind himself.  
"Cory..." she said, hardly even a whisper.  
"Hey, Topanga.."  
Her eyes began to well up and Cory started to shake.  
God, please, no. Not already.  
"Where have you been..?" she said, sounding broken. "I needed you."  
"I've... I've been no where. Alone. Trying to deal with what I did."  
"Baby," they both paused after that. It was so familiar, her calling him  
that, but it also seemed so foriegn. She continued, anyway. "You didn't  
do anything."  
"Yes, I did, Topanga. Yes, I did." he spat, daring her to contradict  
him.  
She stared at him for a moment and wiped the tears from her face.  
"No, Cory, you didn't."  
"I didn't protect him. I let some random fucking guy run off with my  
son. Then, I let him get killed." People started to stare as he got  
louder.  
"It wasn't your fault, baby. I don't blame you. I know it hurts. I I blamed myself for a long time afterward, too. But it wasn't either of our faults. Please, Cory, let me help you..."  
Cory was silent. How could she be so forgiving?  
"I love you."  
'Did she really just say that?' Cory thought, not daring to look in her eyes.  
"No you don't. Why should you? Who the hell cares about me?"  
They sat in silence for a long moment before Topanga reached across the  
table and held his hand in her's.  
He looked up at her, surprised, but he held tightly onto her hand.  
Her hand felt so right in his, suddenly he remembered high school with  
her, college with her, marrying her.  
Topanga's eyes seemed to find his very soul when she looked at him and  
said what he had wanted to hear for so long from her. What he had been  
too afraid to listen to. From her, from anyone.  
"I do."


	7. Epilogue

It wasn't easy for them to try and fix everything, it definitely wasn't  
solved that night. Life wasn't like that and never would be. It was just  
the first, terrible step in a journey that would prove to be heart-  
breakingly difficult. They both had days, even weeks where they didn't  
think they could do it. Where they thought they would never be able to  
pull through it together. There was countless sleepless nights and tears  
shed. Even though it took years, they were successful. They would never  
be okay with the fact, they would always miss and love Adam, always wish  
that they could reach out and hold him again, touch his face, her him  
laugh, watch him grow. But there came a time when they could finally  
make it through the day. Finally get through a night without breaking  
down and crying. And then came a day when they had another son. They  
toyed with the idea of naming him Adam, but quickly decided against it.  
It wasn't fair to Adam or the new baby. He could never be replaced and  
the baby shouldn't have to try. So they named him Michael. And with  
Michael and Adam's memory, they had everything they needed.


End file.
